Memmories to forget
by Rowna Seria
Summary: When day turns to night, odd things can happen. Memories are reawakened, and new ones are made. The night casts it's bluw shadow across this world.


Memories to Forget  
  
By: Seria  
  
  
  
Today, it was beautiful. It was one of those summer days that aren't too hot or sticky; even though it's cloudy the light still streams through my library window. It's almost like a winter day, but of course it's a lot warmer. There are some that hate the winter, but truth to be told I love it, and that's not just because of Christmas or my birthday. Really, you have to love a season for it's weather. But I suppose I think a bit too much of it, since it is one of my few joys in life. Soon I will be returning to school. A few more supplies need to be bought here and there, so we will be stopping to pick them up a week before school. So than I guess another year of lies will begin. It will be my fifth year at Hogwarts and the thing I'm looking most forward to is getting away from my parents. That's not much to look forward to, well, a little. I hate my life. There I said it, I do. But it's not like I'm going to kill myself, not that it would matter. Most people would mourn for a day after my death and than throw a party. But really, suicide is such a lame way to die; old age is better than that.  
  
Well I suppose I'll have to go back to school and live the lie I've been living for the past 15 years, not that it really matters. In fact, it doesn't really help that I have a lot of money. Truth to be told that makes it worse, and having a reputation before you are born is another factor. Yes I could change who I am, but I'm not sure I want to. I don't believe in fate but sometimes it seems like my destiny has already been planned for me. Well, on second thought it probably has. Draco Malfoy, the kid who is just like his father. Oh yuck, I can't stand saying that, I think I'll go through up.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco stood up from the couch he had been sitting on in the family library. For the last wile he had been staring off into space recording his thoughts in his head because he thought it was stupid to write every thing down in a diary that people could find and read with out you knowing until it was too late. He went over to a desk and started on some things his teachers wanted him to read over the summer. It wasn't exactly the most interesting thing in the world and in a short wile he had fallen asleep on top of his books.  
  
Draco slowly awoke. He looked around himself; it was pitch black in the library, except for the moonlight streaming through the windows high in the walls. The tall rows of books and bookcases looked ominous in the half- light. He looked around to find what had roused him, but he could not find it. He was sure he had heard something, but it may have just been his dream.  
  
He glanced over at the old grandfather clock. The moonlight hit it in a way that cast deep shadows in all the nooks and crannies of the wood, almost like a relief. Draco almost felt himself shudder, but managed to contain it. It reminded him a lot of the time he had been out in the forbidden forest for detention in his first year at Hogwarts, not exactly something he wanted to remember. It also reminded him of the time when he was a small boy... no, don't think about that, Draco thought to himself, forget it, it never happ... 'Oh, but it did' a small voice in the back of his mind told him. Than Draco realized he was squinting his eyes. He finally got around to looking at the clock's time. 12:00, midnight. He had missed dinner and been asleep for nearly 8 hours, yet for some reason he did not feel like he had been sleeping for that long.  
  
He stood up from the chair he had been sitting in and began walking through the isles between bookshelves and when he reached the other side, the area with sofas and chairs, but no desks, when he saw the mirror. It had always seemed like an ordinary mirror and he had never known why his mother insisted on keeping it. It didn't talk, and didn't do anything special; it just cast your reflection. Than he remembered some thing his mother had said to him when he was little. "Mirrors never lie," she had been looking over into the mirror and Draco remembered he had almost seen tears in her eyes. Of course he had not known any words to comfort her, no one had ever said anything like that to him, but than again he was only 5 when it happened.  
  
Draco continued out the large Library doors and went down the cool dark halls. He didn't really have any idea where he was headed; he just knew he was going where his mind took him. He glided along on almost silent footsteps. He moved past large paintings and tapestries. Many of the pictures were of past generations of Malfoys, but Draco had seen them many times before. He wondered around for a wile before he finally stopped, at the door of the fencing room. He had a sudden urge to go inside.  
  
As he entered he looked around. It was a fairly large room with a high ceiling. The room was very open: in one corner they kept the swords and in the other side of the room there was another door. The room was flooded with cool blue light coming from the high windows. There was only one part that was different, a stained glass window that was red. All the rows of candles around the walls were usually lit because it was dark in the room most of the time, but now none were lit and the cool blue flooded in. His eyes remained on the red part of the floor. Red like blood, like spilt blood. And as soon as Draco thought this memories came flooding back, memories of his father. How he had taught him. How his father had spilt his only son's blood. This time Draco could not contain a shudder.  
  
He was about to leave when he spied the door on the other side of the room. He had only been through that door when he was very small. He felt himself drawn to it, like a magnet. Why, he thought, why am I doing this to my self, all these memories.  
  
As he reached to open the doors and he stood a moment and felt the cool metal handles before opening it fully. He gazed down the stairs that lead to the dungeons, but he felt he must go up, up the winding stairs to the tower. He felt himself moving on instinct again, almost involuntarily. He reached the top, the bell tower. The tallest "tower", other than the owlrey. The moon shone full through the openness of it all. It had, perhaps, at one time have been a bell tower, but now it was filled in. Again everything was cast in a hue of cool blue. Draco thought of the last time he had been up here, it was when he was only 6 or 7 years old. But before he could finish his thoughts his mother appeared out of the shadows.  
  
He had always thought of his mother of being self obsessed, at least that was the way she had seemed for the last few years of his life. Her white- blonde hair flew out behind her in the slight breeze as she walked slowly toward him. The effect was that of an eerie moonlit elegance. "Why does my dearest son torment himself this way?" she asked in an almost ghostly voice.  
  
For some reason Draco felt his heart pounding hard in his chest, and did not answer his mother's question. Frozen in his steps he wondered what his mother was doing here. She had always been one to sleep at night, and certainly never to be up at this hour. "My dear reflection," she said as she reached him and reached up and touched his face in a loving sort of way. Draco felt a jolt of cold run through his body. All his instincts told him to run, but he could not move from the spot. "You tell the truth and reflect faithfully. But one cannot be a reflection forever. Come with me my son and we can leave this world forever. Fate has dealt us a cruel hand, come with me and leave."  
  
Draco felt chills run up and down his spine as his mother embraced him. This was the first time she had ever done that to him, that he could remember. He could feel his breath coming out fast and felt as if he might explode from the flow of thoughts crowding his mind. He broke free from her grasp, not so much from his own strength, but almost because she wanted him too. He felt himself gasping as horrible memories like visions flooded his mind, and all went black.  
  
Blood, he was covered in blood. Whose blood? His own? His father's? He felt it's red stickiness run through his hair, his hands, his arms, his wings. His wings?? Why did he have wings, they were like dragon wings, but they had feathers, and black tips like they had been dipped in ink. He gazed down at the sword at his feet. It was covered in blood as well. He looked at his saw a large gash in his left side. He was kneeling in a pool of his own blood.  
  
Draco had awoke with a start. He had been laid down in his bed. Had last night been a dream? It seemed almost unreal. No, he said to himself, it really happened, I know it did.  
  
He slowly got dressed and headed down to breakfast. His parent's were already at the table eating. He gazed over at his mother, she looked how she normally looked; nothing in her air echoed that of last night. "It seems you've decided to grace us with your presence at the breakfast table," said his father with a bit of a bite in his voice.  
  
He still must be upset about missing dinner last night, Draco thought to himself.  
  
"We will be going to Diagon Alley today."  
  
"Hmm, already?" asked Draco in a soft voice.  
  
"Yes already, have you not been keeping track of time? I have a couple errands I have to run, I trust you can get your supplies on your own," Draco remained silent at this pause in his father's statement, last night still weighed heavily on his mind, "Any way you know the consequences if you get anything extra."  
  
So, Draco thought to himself, I guess another year of lies is about to begin.  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 


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